Not A Chance
by Hannah and Co
Summary: Let's just say this is MY version of the episode where Claire comes back... (FINISHED)
1. Act One: Locke, Boone, Jack, Charlie

Locke shouldered his way through the underbrush, ducking low branches, as the girl in his arms sprawled lifelessly, her mouth open dramatically, her arms flung out in a sign of defeat. Boone followed close behind. "Jack!" called the boy, "Jack!" over and over again as they neared the caves. Locke joined in the chorus every now and then of calling out the doctor's name in the vain hopes that he would hear them. "Jack!" called the hunter, as he ducked another branch, and "Jack!" called Boone, following.

Locke made a short leap down the clay bank and landed with a dull _thump _in the cave camp, the girl's head bobbing and lolling horribly as he weaved between the others, who gasped when they saw the girl, to try and find the doctor. "Jack!" called Locke, "Has anyone seen Jack? Jack!" Boone followed, still calling out the hopeless name, "Jack! Jack!"

Jack looked up from filling water bottles at the frantic sound of his name. When he saw Locke with the limp girl in his arms, he dropped the bottle in the spring and leapt to his feet. Charlie looked up from the same task, watching Jack. "What is it?" he asked, frantically, as Jack left hurriedly without a word. "What!" He pulled his bottle up from the pool, screwed on the lid, and hurried after Jack.

Locke held out the limp body to the doctor, who looked it over only for a second before taking it into his own arms. "What is it? What is it?" Charlie jogged up to them. "What is it? Is it Claire?"

It was. Her long blonde hair trailing, her blue eyes closed tightly, her slender neck exposed, Claire looked almost dead. Jack lay her down and Charlie knelt beside her, too close for the doctor's comfort, but he could not deny the little Rock God that small favor. Jack put two fingers to Claire's neck, and Charlie snatched up her wrist, running his hand over her small fingers, cradling it to his chest, holding it and sobbing into it. "Is she dead? Is she dead? Is she dead?" Charlie demanded over and over again, as Jack waited for the pulse results, "Is she dead? Tell me she's alive! Is she dead? Is she dead? – Oh, God!" He squeezed the little hand as Jack removed his fingers from her neck.

"She's fine, she's just fainted." Jack informed him, and Locke, who was standing over him. "And it's no wonder. It's a miracle she's even still alive."

"Claire, wake up," Charlie pleaded, running a dirty hand softly down her flushed cheek, "please, please, _please_ wake up. Please, please wake up."

"Let her sleep," Jack instructed Charlie, who looked up at him with wide, woeful eyes. "She'll be just fine. Just let her sleep."

Charlie took Claire up into his meager lap, stroking hair back from her forehead, tears streaming down his boyish face. "Please, please, Claire, wake up. Please wake up, Claire. _Please_." He held her close to his chest, sobbing. "Please wake up, Claire. Please wake up." He stared down into the girlish face, strawberry lips parted slightly, blue eyes closed, long blonde hair trailing. "Please wake up, Claire." he whispered again, as a tear rolled down his cheek, "I need you."

Jack met Locke's eyes, and a split second of understanding flashed between them, but was soon replaced by their overpowering differences. Jack lowered his dark eyes and turned away, calling, "It's nighttime. I think it's time to turn in." He glanced up at Locke, who just stared back at him, and then turned and headed back towards the beach. Boone took one last look at the doctor and followed Locke. Jack let out a sigh of content. Locke was useful but he was undeniably eerie. Jack sat on the bundle of rags that he used for a bed and glanced around at the other inhabitants of the cave, smiling.

Then Jack's glance fell on Charlie. Charlie had not stopped cradling Claire like a baby, rocking her, whispering to her, and Jack could not help but feel sorry for him. If all the things that had happened to Charlie had happened to him he would have gone mad by now. Jack shook his head and pulled the ragged blanket towards him, covering himself, and lay down. Sun and Jin lay down, too, apart, Jin taking most of the covers. Hurley had also lain down to go to sleep, and Michael was watching Walt sleep, falling fast to sleep himself. Only Charlie did not return to his little cot of a bed. Instead he sat, leaning back against a cave wall, cradling the girl he loved. Finally sleep overtook Jack, and he closed his eyes.

Charlie was determined not to sleep until Claire woke which he knew could be for days, if at all. Still, he fought when sleep began to pull at his already-heavy eyes, willing them to stay open, for Claire. Everything he did anymore was for Claire. He had nothing better to live for. There were no more drugs, no more alcohol, no more Laeam, no more stardom, there was only Claire. Sleep lulled him, and his whispers of "Please wake up, Claire. Please, please wake up." became a soothing lullaby, and his eyes dragged until he could resist no more. He leaned his head back, still whispering, and fell into uneasy sleep.


	2. Act Two: Sawyer, Kate

Sawyer was rifling through a large plastic cooler as Kate sidled up to his camp. A sly little smile was playing across her face as he looked up at her. "Welcome to my large bazaar." Sawyer mimicked Sayid's exotic accent, and Kate arched one sculpted eyebrow, "Please, take a look around. Would you like beach towel? A nice beach towel, yes, just one camel! And here," he indicated to a bag that was sitting by him, "clothes! Yes, yes, old granny clothes!"

"Stop it." Kate laughed a little.

"It's how I feel." Sawyer told her, shrugging and shutting the lid of the cooler. "I feel like people only come around here when they need something." Kate sat down next to his beach chair on the sand and he glanced, cock-eyed, down at her. "And don't you sit there looking innocent." he laughed. "You do it too and you know it."

"And the reason why people want to come around here and be hassled by you is?" Kate asked him sarcastically, and he turned away, smiling. "Seriously, Sawyer, you need to start participating in things and try to be a little nicer. You never know," she glanced up at him and smiled, "things may work out your way more often."

Sawyer raised his eyebrows and an amorous little smile played around the corners of his mouth. "You think so?" he asked, just trying to make conversation.

Kate turned away again. "I know so." she replied. Turning back to him, she asked, "What've you got there, Sawyer?"

"Hmm?" asked Sawyer, "Here?" He opened the lid of the cooler ever so slightly, and Kate tried to peer inside, but he clicked it shut before she saw what was inside. "Why do you want to know?" Sawyer tested.

Kate gave him an agitated, but playful, stare, and he just smiled back. "Tell me, Sawyer." she insisted.

"Whew. Me-_ow_." Sawyer teased her, and opened the lid a crack again. Kate tried again to look inside, but Sawyer snapped it shut. "Nope," he grinned at her, "I ain't tellin' you." She gave him an irritated stare, and his smile just grew wider. "How much do you wanna know what's inside?" he tested.

"Just tell me Sawyer," Kate urged.

"Will you kiss me for it?"

"Sawyer!"

Sawyer's eyes rolled off in a different direction, and his smile grew. "Then I don't think I'll tell you." He put the cooler aside on the ground by his chair. "So," he tried to start up a mock conversation, but Kate stood up and began to walk away. "Hey," Sawyer called, "where you goin'?"

Kate turned and smiled at him. "I'm going to check out what's at that stand." she pointed to her own campsite. "Goodnight, Sawyer." She started off again, and Sawyer let out a little breath of humor.

"I'll tell you what's in it tomorrow," he called, "you might drive me crazy if I told you what was in it tonight."

Kate rolled her eyes and flipped her hair back, and started back towards her camp. Sawyer watched her disappear, and then took up the cooler again and opened it, staring down into it, and pulled out a little glass bottle.

There were some things that were not all too bad about plane service. Vodka, for instance.


	3. Act Three: Claire, Charlie, Jack, Sun, J...

Claire began to move, and Charlie was startled from his light sleep. "Claire?" he exclaimed, softly. He took her up a little tighter in his arms, staring at her intently. Claire moved again, her small, pale hand straining to reach up to rub her eyes. Charlie, his eyes beginning to tear up, took Claire's small hand and helped her. Claire's hand stiffened, as if it had a life of its own, when he touched her. A tiny crease of worry played between her eyebrows, her breath coming out in terrified gasps. "Claire," Charlie whispered, "it's me, Charlie. Don't worry. It's just me."

Claire's eyes snapped open. She took one look at Charlie and began to scream. He dropped her and began moving away, quickly. She screamed, backing herself against the rock wall of the cave, tears forming and spilling down her cheeks in terror. Charlie's eyes were wide in shock; he was almost as terrified of her as she was of him.

Jack heard the screaming and instantly woke up; Jin woke too and began shouting in Korean, but Sun quieted him; Hurley sat up, startled; even Walt woke up and Michael came to sit by him, in case he was frightened. Jack rushed to Claire, and Charlie sat some two yards away from her, not sure whether to help or stay back, sitting there in a shadow. "Claire!" he called, choking on her name. She just screamed louder.

"Charlie, this is a really bad time," Jack called to him over the noise of Claire's screaming, but Charlie did not want to listen. He crawled forward on all fours, pushed the doctor aside, and tried to get Claire's attention.

"Claire!" he cried, "Claire, it's me!"

Claire just screamed louder, her screaming broken only by the shrieking question, "WHO ARE YOU!"

"Claire, it's me!" he sobbed, as she continued screaming, "It's me, Charlie! We were in love, Claire! You were going to have your baby, and I wanted to help you! You and I, we were kidnapped by Ethan! Ethan!"

At the sound of Ethan's name, Claire screamed louder, thrashing out at him like a wild animal. Jack put a hand on Charlie's chest, trying to push him back so he could take care of the problem himself, but Charlie grabbed the doctor's hand and twisted it. "FUCK OFF, JACK!" he screamed, and Jack retreated a few steps, tending to his throbbing wrist. The small Rock God, angry tears now streaming down his face, knelt down in front of the screaming pixie, and shouted, "Claire! Listen to me!" his voice cracked as he strained it, "It's me! Charlie!" She did not stop screaming. "HOW COULD YOU FORGET ME!" he screamed, even louder than her, and she opened her eyes to stare at him, terrified, "I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU! HOW COULD YOU FORGET ME!"

Claire slowly stopped screaming, staring at him, terrified, as he panted, tears now streaming down his face, his eyes red, looking even more rabid than she did. "Claire," he panted, reaching out a hand towards her, but before he could touch her, she had sprung to her feet and begun running away.

"Hey!" Jack exclaimed, "don't let her get away! We'll never be able to find her!"

Jack took off after Claire, Walt jumped to his feet and began after the doctor with his father close behind him and even Hurley jumped up to help and followed. Sun and Jin huddled, Jin muttering something to Sun in Korean, Sun looking terrified.

Charlie just sat staring at his hand, at the empty spot where the girl had been, and did not move. A fresh pair of tears skated down his cheeks. "Claire..." he whispered, his voice broken, "how could you forget me?"

Jack caught up with Claire, grabbing her tiny wrist and pulling her back. Claire let out a short little scream of shock, and Jack grabbed hold of her other arm, holding her so she could not run away again. "Listen, Claire," he said, but she did not want to listen.

"Let go of me!" she cried, struggling with him, "Who are you! Let go of me!"

"Claire, you have to listen to me," Jack pressed, "there is a very bad man out here who wants to kill you and your baby. We are your friends. We just want to help you."

"You're not my friend! Who are you!" Claire screamed, "Who _are _you! Let go of me!"

She struggled to get away from him, but he would not let go of her. "We are your friends, Claire," Jack said again, "you have to trust me! You and your baby will die if you don't believe me! We just want to help you!"

Claire stopped struggling, her hair falling wildly in her face, glaring at Jack. "Are you threatening my baby?" she asked dangerously.

"No, Claire, I'm trying to help your baby," Jack explained, getting exasperated. "I need you to trust me. Trust us." He waited for a moment, and then added, "Please."

Claire just stared at him, her hands balled into fists, her hair still in her face, and then asked, "The man who was screaming at me?"

"Charlie." Jack offered. "I don't need to tell you about Charlie. I'm sure he'll tell you everything himself."

"And you?"

"Me?" Jack paused for a moment. "I'm Jack. I'm a doctor."

Claire's expression softened to one of comprehension, her fists unclenching as she stared at him. "A doctor?" she asked.

"Please," pleaded Jack, "come back to the caves with us."

Claire's hands fell limp in the doctor's hands, and Jack let go of her. Turning, he glanced behind him to make sure she was following, and then headed back towards the caves. A worried thought crossed his mind: when Charlie found out that her memory had been erased, how would he react? How much would he want to tell her? What would he keep from her? And what if she did not believe him? There was that Halliburton case... Jack decided that he would have to find a better hiding place for it.

Charlie had dropped his hand by the time they got back, and the dull morning sun had begun to rise, bathing everything with a ghostly glow, including Charlie's mournfully dark face. Claire paused when she saw him, and tried to hide in Jack's shadow, but he did not even look up. Instead, he stood, and without even turning to acknowledge Jack's or Claire's presence, he spoke. "I'm going to... go for a walk." he told no one in particular. Sun nodded as he disappeared into the forest, and Jack surveyed her with interest.

"Sun," he called, and she looked up at him. "You –?"

Sun looked terrified, and with a quick, indicating glance at her husband, shook her head. Jack stared at her for another moment or two, and then turned back to Claire. She, too, was looking at them but in interest. "They speak Korean." Jack told her. "I think," he added.


	4. Act Four: Sawyer, Kate

Sawyer had his feet propped up, eyes closed behind his lightly tinted sunglasses, hands folded across his half-bare chest when Kate sashayed up to him. "Can you tell me what's in the cooler _now_?" she asked, and he lowered his sunglasses to stare at her. She indicated the sky. "It's daytime." she told him. Sawyer nodded, pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, and sighed.

"You got me," he admitted. Kate raised her eyebrows in anticipation as he pulled the cooler into his lap and opened it. "Come look for yourself," he told her.

Kate hesitated, and then slowly began towards him. Slowly, she approached him, and slowly, she peered inside. A small smile split her usually solemn face. "Vodka," she said.

Sawyer's eyebrows rose, and he smiled at her. She glanced up at him. "Well," he said, grinning, "do you wanna?"

Kate grinned back at him. "Sure."


	5. Act Five: Boone, Locke

Boone picked up a handful of sand and spread it out onto the animal skin that the hunter was tanning, and then stepped back as Locke ran over the grains with a rounded, smooth stick. Boone glanced at him. "Are we gonna go investigate the –?"

"Maybe." answered Locke simply.

"Well, are we gonna go now, or –?"

"Later."

Boone stopped questioning, and Locke turned to him, wiping his forehead. "Tell you what," he said. "If you're so bored, go start packing your stuff up."

Boone stared at him, his undead eyes more flat then ever. "What?"

Locke stared at him. "You heard me." he said, turning back to the hide, "go pack up your stuff."

"We going somewhere?"

"No," answered Locke between strokes. He faced Boone again. "You are."

"Me!" exclaimed Boone.

"Yep," said Locke, continuing to tan the hide. "You and your sister are going to the caves."

"But, why –?"

"It's safer there."

Boone searched the sand aimlessly with his eyes. "But we just –?"

"Left? I know."

"What about –?"

"Me? I appreciate your concern, Boone, but..." He looked up from the hide once more and opened his arms towards the boy. "Do I look like I need protecting to you?"

"No," said Boone truthfully, and Locke went back to tanning the hide. "But –"

"Don't worry about me. I'll come around eventually." Locke made one long, deep scratch on the hide. "Have you heard some of the stuff they've been saying about us?" he finally asked, a touch of humor in his voice.

"All the time. From my sister." Boone sighed. "To my face." He glanced up at Locke again. "That's not the reason why you –?"

"No. Definitely not." Locke wiped his sweaty brow and put down the stick. "It's just that a young man like yourself shouldn't be stifled by attaching himself to an old man like me. You need to have some adventures of your own. At least for a little while." He smiled back at Boone. "I'm sure you've felt the same way sometimes," he said.

"Once," Boone admitted, "when you wouldn't let me tell Shannon about the thing we found."

"And are you going to tell her now?"

Boone hesitated. "No," he answered.

Locke wiped his forehead with a dirty sleeve and smiled at Boone proudly. "Good for you." he said.

"So, should I start packing up now?" Boone asked, indicating towards his bags.

"It would be your best option," answered Locke vaguely.

Boone took one last look at Locke and picked up his bag. As he threw his things into it, he glanced over at his stepsister. She was obliviously sunbathing, her head resting on her arms, her eyes covered by a pair of movie-star-style sunglasses. Boone snorted and continued packing up his belongings. Zipping it up, he slung the heavy bag onto his back and began walking away.

"Oh, Boone," called Locke.

Boone turned just in time to see Locke tossing the javelin to him. Boone caught it with easiness that the hunter had taught him and surveyed it in awe. He then looked up at Locke, his eerily dead eyes glistening.

"You're going to need it more than me." Locke told him, and then returned to the hide.

"Thanks," Boone smiled, and then began up the sandy beach towards the caves.


	6. Act Six: Charlie, Ethan

Charlie stalked away, hands in his pockets. He wished he had those drugs. Now was an ideal time to get stoned. How could she forget him? His eyes fell to his torn shoes, their checkerboard pattern stunning his stinging eyes.

He lost track of time. All he knew was that he had to get as far from that place as he possibly could. How could this have happened to him? Why did everything always, _always_ happen to him? He hated his life. He stared down at his dirty hands, at the tan-line that the tape had caused, a little pale ring around each of the fingers on his left hand, three of them. One piece of tape was left. He glared at it, and it just stared back at him, a big, blatant, "L", as if it were taunting him, "Loser!"

"Who asked you!" he shouted, tearing at the rotten piece of tape with soiled and cracked fingernails, "Goddamn it! Who asked you!" He brought the finger frantically to his mouth and began shredding the tape with his teeth. He heard it rip, almost like cloth, as it fought to stay on. "Get off!" he shouted, "I am not a loser! I AM NOT A BLOODY LOSER!" He tore at it more fiercely with his teeth, and finally the defiant, sarcastic letter fluttered in pieces to the ground. Charlie stared hard at it, panting, trying to calm himself down. "I," he panted, pointing at the scrap of tape, "am _not_ a bloody –"

Charlie heard a muffled rustling, and then a dull _thump_,_ thump_,_ thump_,as of boots on damp clay. He turned, but saw no one. The first thought that crossed his mind was the Creature. Could it be? – No, the Creature was _much _noisier than that.

"Locke?" he called. No answer came, but the footsteps stopped. Charlie listened hard, but whoever – or _what_ever – it was, had stopped advancing.

"Dumbass," he scolded himself, "you can't _hear_ Locke when he's hunting."

Boone, then?

No, Boone and Locke were attached at the hip. "And the lips," Charlie allowed himself a dirty little joke but his laughter was suppressed and nervous. If it wasn't Locke, Boone, or the Creature, then who – or what – was it?

The French lady?

"Danielle?" called Charlie. A muffled shuffle was audible – but this time from the opposite direction of the first sound. "Danielle?" Charlie panicked, spinning. "Bonjour, um..." – Damn him for taking Spanish! "Danielle," he called, "I come in... peace, and... um... I didn't mean to..."

He stopped. The dull _thump... thump... thump..._ had returned. Charlie listened. It was coming from behind him, and it was coming closer. He hesitated, and then asked one last time, "Danielle?"

"Bonjour," mocked a very masculine voice.

Paralysis set in. He knew that voice. He wanted to run. He needed to run. But the paralysis kept him fixed to the spot. The feeling of being capable of nothing, the inability to move, made withdrawal almost enviable. He would much rather have been twitching and ticking at grotesque, uneven intervals than just standing there, unable to react. Finally his mind gave him some control, and he turned.

The face was the same: the curved nose, the crooked mouth, the sunken cheeks, the cold black eyes. But now that ominous profile that haunted his every waking moment and his nighttime dreams was pockmarked with bloody gashes running the length of the concave cheeks, a perfect set of four, as if he had been attacked by a polar bear, or a wild cat – or a woman.

Claire.

Ethan smiled at his shock, one deadly hand in a tattered pocket, the other hanging by his side, ready to strike. "I thought I hanged you," Ethan commented.

Charlie hesitated, the words fumbled by his numb lips, "Y-y-you d-did." He then repeated it for good measure, with just as much fear in his voice, "You did."

"And yet here you are, right as rain." Ethan went on conversation-like, unmoving, unblinking.

"Y-yeah," agreed Charlie, not sure what to say, licking his dry lips. There was no way this man could be human. No human could converse death and murder with the airi-ness of discussing the weather unless they were maniacally twisted, which Charlie knew this man must be.

"How odd." Ethan shook his head unblinkingly, his gaze never leaving Charlie's face. "How very odd. – But of course, I suppose you had the good doctor on your side, didn't you?" He blinked for the first time and a new glaze of cold reflection shimmered in his sunken eyes. The hand not in the pocket had begun to move, as if of its own accord, as he stared at Charlie, and the rusty blood on his face began to shine as if it pulsed anew.

Charlie swallowed, unable to speak, and nodded, straining every muscle in his locked neck. His heart raced faster with every nod, as if his head were drawing the blood from the well of his heart, forcing it to pump faster to refill the emptiness that Claire had caused it.

"Charlie," said Ethan, smiling wickedly, almost as if he were taunting the young man. Suddenly, in a flash of movement too quick for Charlie to catch, Ethan's hand was around his neck, pinning him to a tree. Charlie gave a gasp of surprise, his hands flayed out like spiders on the wind – muddy, rusty spiders that smelt of grass, and fruit, and ash, and blood, and heroin. The spiders at once attached themselves to the most sensible perch by Charlie's sides on the trunk. Ethan was no longer smiling, and his eyes were so empty and cold that Charlie felt he could easily have fit a finger through one of the gaping holes – and instantly gotten frostbite.

"You're supposed to be dead." Ethan said in a low voice, almost a canine growl. "I tried to kill you so you couldn't talk. But it's too late for that, isn't it? _ISN'T IT_!" He repeated the question forcefully before Charlie had a chance to answer, shaking him hard until he could almost hear the reduced young man's bones rattling. Charlie choked, but no tears came, and shook his head. "LIAR!" screamed Ethan, now beginning to gain what could be called almost human qualities. He shook Charlie harder, but he just shook his head more vigorously.

"I told them nothing!" he sobbed, "I can't remember anything!"

Ethan was silent, staring at the wreck of what was once a proud Rock God, riding a high hobby-horse on top of the world, who now took Tylenol instead of heroin and who could hardly remember the chorus of his own songs. Ethan tightened his grip around the man's throat and reveled in the _ka-choke_,_ ka-choke_ that issued from Charlie's mouth like an old engine trying to start. "You bring her back to me," Ethan growled in a low voice, bringing their faces close together threateningly, listening to Charlie's desperate choking, "or I will _kill_ one of them. And this time, I won't screw up."

He dropped Charlie, and the little Rock God fell in a crumpled heap at the roots of the tree, holding his throat and coughing. When he looked up, Ethan was gone.


	7. Act Seven: Hurley, Jin, Sun, Claire

"Look, man, do you speak English or not?" Hurley asked as Jin rushed around, muttering to himself in Korean, smiling every now and then at the plus-sized joker. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you." Hurley called, but Jin did not acknowledge him. Sun just stared at him looking as blank as her husband, and Hurley turned to her. "Does he speak English?" Sun just replied with more Korean, and Hurley rolled his eyes. "Look, dude," he said to Jin, who glanced up at him and smiled, "I heard from somebody that you spoke English. I'm not tryin' to be nosy or anything, but I really need to know this kinda stuff, okay?" Jin responded with more cheerful Korean, and Hurley turned to Claire, who huddled her-self into a smaller ball at being looked at.

"Hello," she said quietly, holding her swollen stomach.

"Hey," Hurley replied. "Where's Charlie?"

Claire just gave him a blank stare.

"Oh yeah, that's right. Sorry, man. My bad." Hurley turned back to Jin and Sun, who were now conversing in Korean. "Do you speak English, or not?" Hurley insisted, but Jin just continued his cheerful Korean prattling. "Dude, we're gonna be on this island for a really long time." Hurley pointed out. "If you can speak English, you should tell me now, because you're gonna tell me later. Plus, people will be able to understand you."

Jin paused for a moment, and then replied in Korean.

Hurley shook his head. "Dude," he sighed, "this is never gonna work out."


	8. Act Eight: Lance

Lance hiked up the little grassy hill and looked around at the green field. No one else was there; he supposed that Hurley's game must have gotten old, fast. Well, _he_ still enjoyed it. He picked up a rusty golf club and gave it a swing. He enjoyed it very much. Taking out a golf ball and a tee, he set up the game for himself, and then set himself, club in perfect angles to the hole, and readied his swing.

He took a swing, and the ball popped up in the air, landing with a dull _thunk_ three feet away. He sighed. Today was going to be a slow day.


	9. Act Nine: Sayid, Shannon

Sayid sat down next to Shannon, who did not look up from her sunbathing. "You know," he said, staring out to sea, "I think we might still have a chance of getting off this island."

"Not a chance." Shannon sighed, still not looking at him.

Sayid nodded. "You know," he repeated, "I think your brother Boone and Locke are really hunting when they go out."

"He's my stepbrother," corrected Shannon, "and not a chance."

Sayid glanced over at her. "You know," he said, "I think you're very beautiful."

Shannon looked at him now, lowering her sunglasses to better study him: the dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair; he was irrefutably handsome. And yet there was more to it than that. He was kind; he was smart; and he liked her. She smiled. "Thank you," she said.

He turned to look at her, and he smiled at her, too. "You're welcome." he said.


	10. Act Ten: Charlie

Charlie ran. There was nothing left to do but warn them. Jack. Sawyer. Locke. Jin. Boone. Hurley. Sayid. Kate. Sun. Michael. Walt. Shannon. Lance. Rosa. Claire... He had to warn them all, or else one of them would surely die. He was _not_ going to give Claire back to Ethan. Even if she did not remember who he was, he was still in love with her, and if that meant that _he_ would be the one dying – it was worth it. _She _was worth it.

Jumping over underbrush and ducking branches, he went over the survivors in his head. Knowing Ethan – or rather, _not_ knowing Ethan – he figured that he, himself, would be the highest threat, and so would ultimately be the one to die.

He could almost feel the noose around his neck again.

He ran.


	11. Act Eleven: Boone, Jack, Claire

Boone reached the caves. Screwing back on the lid of his water bottle, he dropped his bag to the hard floor, and Jack looked up at him from consoling Claire. "I'm moving in," Boone explained. "Locke needed some me-time. I guess."

Jack nodded and went back to talking quietly to Claire. "You're going to be fine, I promise." he told her, "Just stay here, at the caves, and I promise you'll be fine."

Boone glanced over at them as he bent to refill his water bottle. He had helped in the return of Claire to the camp, and he was proud of himself. "Is she okay?" he asked.

Jack glanced up at him, said something to Claire, and stood. Glancing back at the girl, who was staring intently at him, he walked over to Boone. "I think she'll be fine." he told the younger man. "She's got minor amnesia. Once we start talking to her, it may or it may not come back."

"Charlie couldn't remember anything either when he came back," Boone pointed out. "You think it's something Ethan did to them?"

"Definitely. Psychological trauma can result in a form of amnesia. Though in Charlie's case, it could've been a number of things." pointed out the doctor. "Alcoholism, drug use, damage he received to the head during an overdose of either; any of that could result in amnesia."

"But, he didn't have amnesia until he was taken by Ethan."

"True. So I guess I must just be trauma."

Jack glanced back at Claire, who was staring down at her stomach, running a hand over it lovingly. "I guess it's a miracle she's still alive," Jack said, "even though she can't remember anything. It's still a miracle."

Boone nodded in agreement. He hardly believed in miracles anymore, but if there was one thing that he could classify as one, it would be Claire's return.


	12. Act Twelve: Sawyer, Kate, Charlie, Locke...

"So, who were you before you were Sawyer?" asked Kate as Sawyer picked out a tiny bottle and shook it. "I mean, what was your real name?"

"Who was I?" Sawyer asked, twisting off the cap. "Can't remember. Don't think I was anybody before I was Sawyer." He lifted the bottle as if to drink from it, but then, "No," he took the little bottle from his lips and indicated towards her with it, "I was a confused little kid. That's who I was before I was Sawyer. A confused little kid with no parents." He did not lift the bottle back to his lips, but just held it in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Sawyer." Kate said, staring at the sand at her feet. She sat down. "I'm not trying to rain on your moment of misery," she said, "but I didn't exactly have parents, either. I was a bad little girl brought up in a bad home."

"At least you had a home," Sawyer pointed out. "No one wanted to adopt me. I sounded like too much of a basket case. Dad shot my mother and then shot himself; kids who go through that kind of stuff aren't exactly right, you know?" He glanced down at her as if to see her agreeing heartily, but she was just staring at the sand.

"Yeah, but you could hardly call it a home." Kate pointed out. "My parents were both horrible people. Couldn't treat a child right if you paid them. Well, maybe if you paid them _enough_," Kate added as an afterthought, and Sawyer chuckled a bit.

"Well, you turned out pretty damn okay," Sawyer pointed out.

"You think I turned out okay?" Kate smiled. "I was on this plane to get me over to the US where they could give me a taste of justice and arrest me for my crime. Somehow I don't think that _good_ parents would produce a felon like me."

"Solitude'll do the same thing for ya." Sawyer told her. "I ain't exactly got a clean slate when it comes to the law." He twisted the cap back onto the little bottle. "In fact," he added, "you and I have something in common."

Kate glanced up at him, her eyes filled with modest interest. "Yeah," said Sawyer, looking down at her and smiling, "we're both jailbirds."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me at all." Kate laughed.

"Yeah," agreed Sawyer, smiling, "Just a day or so before I broke out and got onto this plane, I saw our friend Boone up at the cop house."

"Boone?" asked Kate, looking over at Shannon sunbathing. "What was he in there for?"

"Oh he wasn't _in_ there," said Sawyer, "he was reporting somethin'. Or somebody. I dunno. But it was definitely him."

Kate smiled, turning to look at Sawyer. "You know," she said, "you're starting to grow on me. I don't know why."

"That's a first." Sawyer smiled.

"Yeah," Kate said, her voice beginning to soften, "I think you're starting to grow on me very, very much." She moved closer to him.

"That could be a good thing," Sawyer agreed, moving closer to her.

"Yeah." agreed Kate. "It could be a really... good..."

Their faces were almost touching now. Kate closed her eyes and readied her lips. Sawyer moved in just a little further. She wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss her, too. He had always wanted to kiss her. He closed his eyes, turning his head ever so slightly, and their lips neared...

"HELP! ETHAN'S BACK!"

Both snapped back to their senses as this frantic cry was heard from the jungle. A split second later, Charlie burst through the underbrush with almost the animosity of a cartoon, a spray of leaves flying in his wake, screaming at the top of his voice, "ETHAN! ETHAN'S BACK! SOMEBODY HELP!"

Kate sprang to her feet and rushed to Charlie, who was running in frantic circles up and down the beach, trying to get help. "Charlie!" she exclaimed, "Charlie! Charlie, stop!" She grabbed his wrist and he ran past her, jerking her, and skidded to a halt, sand flying in a cascade. With a shocked outburst Charlie fell onto his rear in the sand. By now he had attracted the attention of more than just Kate. Locke was starting slowly over with a tool in one hand; Sayid and Shannon had looked up from their flirtatious chat; a stray cluster of other survivors were staring at him; even Sawyer had turned in his chair to see.

"Charlie," Kate said softly, and he turned to her with wild, frightened eyes. "What is –?"

"It's Ethan he's back and he wants to kill Claire." Charlie stated, all in one scared breath, "I need someone to help me or else he's going to kill one of us."

Kate glanced up at Sawyer, who was smiling. She gave him a skeptical look, and he just shrugged, screwed open the lid of his vodka bottle, and drank it. "You know," she said, "if he does kill one of us, I hope it's Sawyer."

Sawyer almost choked on his drink, but, nodding, he swallowed and turned back to Kate. "You know," he said humorously, still nodding, "me too."

"I'm serious!" Charlie exclaimed. "You have to help me – somebody has to help me – we have to protect Claire. All he wants is Claire and we have to protect her." Eyes as large as saucers searched Kate's serious face. "You have to help me."

"Sounds like the boogey man," Sawyer commented, tossing the little empty bottle on the floor of his camp and setting the cooler aside. "Are you sure you didn't just dream this whole thing up, Chah-lie?" He smiled as Charlie glared at his imitation of the small Rock God's accent.

"Shut up, Sawyer." Kate instructed him.

"I did _not_ dream it up." Charlie growled. "I saw him, and I was threatened – you think I don't know it when someone's hand is around my neck?" He took a deep breath and glanced over at Locke. "Please," he pleaded, "I need someone to help me."

Locke nodded. "Okay," he agreed.

"I think we'll all try to help you as best we can." Kate told him, staring at Sawyer, who smirked and shook his head.

Charlie stood up shakily, and Kate let go of his arm. "Good," he said. "Let's go." He disappeared into the woods; Locke followed, and Kate glanced once more at Sawyer before following as well.

"Freaks." Sawyer laughed. "What kinda moron comes back fer a pregnant girl?"


	13. Act Thirteen: Lance, Ethan

Lance looked up from his game to see Ethan coming towards him. He had never been warned about Ethan. No one bothered to tell him anything. "Hey, Ethan." he greeted him, smiling and leaning on his golf club. "You come to play?"

Ethan stopped. "No." he said flatly.

"Oh. Too bad." Lance picked up the club and swung at the ball. Again, it moved only a couple of feet. "So, um, why _are _you here, then?" he asked, glancing back at Ethan as he moved to the ball.

"Where's Claire?" asked Ethan dangerously.

"Claire?" asked Lance, "The pregnant girl? Blonde hair, Australian accent?" He swung at the ball and missed. "Dunno," he replied. "Haven't heard about her in a while. Seems she was about to have her baby, last I heard." He shrugged and swung at the ball again. This time it rolled a few feet and stopped.

"I think you know where Claire is."

Lance swung at the ball and it rolled into a hole. "Yes!" he congratulated himself. He turned to Ethan. "What did you say?" he asked.

Ethan glared at him. "I think you know where Claire is." he repeated.

Lance thought for a moment and then bent down to retrieve the ball from the hole. "Not a clue." he said, squeezing his hand down into the little hole. "I would think she'd be at the caves, but I don't know." He pulled his soiled hand out from the hole and held up the ball triumphantly. "Why?"

Without answering, Ethan looped an arm around Lance's neck and with the other hand, grabbed a handful of his reddish hair. "What are you doing?" he asked frantically, but Ethan did not answer. Instead, he jerked Lance's head to one side, and with one fast, sickening _crack_, Lance fell in a crumpled heap onto the golf course. The golf ball rolled out of his hand, down the hillside after Ethan as the madman walked calmly away.


	14. Act Fourteen: Charlie, Jack, Locke, Boon...

Charlie burst into the cave camp, shouting, "Jack! Jack! Jack, he's back, and he wants Claire!"

"_What_!" Claire exclaimed, cradling her stomach and staring at Charlie, terrified, and then at Jack. "You said I'd be safe if I stayed here! You said I'd be safe!"

"Please, Claire, don't panic," Jack pleaded, "it's just Charlie. Charlie's a druggie, he's probably high or something, don't panic, please..."

"YOU SAID I'D BE SAFE!" she screamed, tears beginning to stream down her face, "YOU LIED TO ME! YOU SAID I'D BE SAFE IF I STAYED HERE! YOU LIED TO ME! YOU WANTED ME TO TRUST YOU! I TRUSTED YOU AND YOU LIED TO ME!"

"Claire, calm down, just calm down," Jack urged. "You're going to be alright, just calm down. I promise, I won't let anything happen to you."

"Jack! Jack!" Charlie ran to him and grabbed his shirt sleeve. "Jack, Ethan's back and he wants Claire. We have to do something, Jack!"

Claire looked from one face to the other, terrified. "He wants my baby!" she said, bursting into a new fountain of tears. "You're all trying to kill me!"

"No, Claire, you're going to be fine. Charlie, this is a really bad time." The doctor looked between the frantic faces, Charlie's shock, Claire's fear. "Talk to Locke about it. This is a really bad time. Please," he pleaded, "I just got her to trust me."

"I already talked to the people on the beach, they're here," Charlie said quickly as Locke, Sayid, Shannon and Kate appeared from between the trees. "Jack, the Halliburton case, where is it?"

Jack stared at him. "Who told you about the –?"

"Kate did. Where is it?"

At the mention of a Halliburton case Locke had pricked up his ears. "Halliburton? As in, one of those super-safe briefcases that they carry weapons in?" he asked, and both Jack and Charlie looked at him. Locke raised his eyebrows in interest.

Jack was trapped. "Yeah." he replied. "That kind." This, he knew, was what it felt like to be stuck between a rock and a hard place. Locke was a skilled hunter – but he was also exceptionally sinister, and never gave out any information besides his name and the fact that he was a hunter who was looking for something precrash – and that _it_ found_ him_.

Locke turned his head to give Jack a questioning three-quarters view.

Jack sighed and exchanged glances with Charlie, who gave him an open stare. He glanced back at Locke. "Yeah." he said again. "That kind."

Locke nodded. "And where is this miraculous Halliburton case?" he asked.

Jack hesitated, swallowing, and then said, "Over here." He beckoned for Locke to follow him, and the hunter did so, but at a comfortable distance. Comfortable for Locke, at least. No distance that put him within earshot of Locke was comfortable for Jack.

Charlie turned to Claire. "Please," he told her, "stay safe."

"Please tell me you're raving on a high," she pleaded, but with one last sad glance at her, Charlie stood and followed Jack and Locke.

Jack popped open the case and picked up a gun. "There are only a few of them." he said, handing the gun to Locke, who went immediately to inspecting it. "We need to figure out who's going to have a gun and who won't."

"We need a plan," Locke told him.

Jack nodded in agreement. "That we do."

Michael sidled up to Jack and Locke and stared down into the case. "Damn," he swore quietly. "How long we had these?"

"Very recently," replied Kate.

"Can I use a gun, Dad?" asked Walt, glancing up at his dad and then back into the case.

"What? – No!" Michael ushered his son away from the Halliburton case. "That is one thing I will not let you do."

"That and everything else," growled Walt.

"Hey, watch it, little man." Michael scolded him, shaking a finger at him. "I've let you do a bunch of stuff your mother would kill me for."

"You don't know what my mom would do," Walt pointed out.

Michael was silent. "Go to bed." he demanded, pointing to the boy's cot.

Jack glanced over at the feuding family. "What do you think? Who needs a gun?"

Locke put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "It's too late to go out now. We need to go out when the sun first comes up." He stashed the gun in his pocket and turned toward his former companion. He opened his arms towards Boone again and smiled. "I'm back," he said.

Boone smiled a little, too. "Turns out you _do_ need protecting after all." he joked. Locke looked up at the sky and Boone looked up, too. "It's gonna rain soon," Boone said.

"Early tomorrow," refined Locke. "Good job." He smiled at Boone, and Boone smiled back, his dead blue eyes lit up.

"I think it's time to sleep." Jack said. "The sooner we go to sleep, the sooner we can go after Ethan."

"Good plan." agreed Locke, and Boone nodded.

Jack got down into his little bundle of rags and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would be interesting...

Soon the only ones still awake were Boone and Locke. It surprised Boone; Locke never slept, or so it seemed. How did he manage? "You think he's around here?" asked Boone, the colors of the bonfire dancing in his undead blue eyes.

"I sure hope not," returned Locke truthfully, but without even a trace of fear in his voice.


	15. Act Fifteen: Boone, Locke, Jack, Kate, H...

The morning came quickly – Boone never knew a night to go by so fast. The fire had died by then, and he watched the last little embers go out. "Why do you think Ethan wants Claire?" he asked.

"Do you want to know my opinion?" asked Locke.

"I think I'll pass." answered Boone.

Locke shook his head, laughing silently, and looked up again. He had just noticed something. Boone's smile faded. "Locke," he said worriedly, as Locke stared hard at a spot somewhere beyond Boone. Boone turned to look where Locke was looking, and he gasped, his undead eyes widening. "JACK! CHARLIE!" he called, turning back around, "CLAIRE'S GONE!"

Boone stood, grabbing his javelin, and Locke glanced back at Jack. Jack grabbed a gun from the Halliburton case and clicked back the hammer; Charlie gazed at the empty spot where Claire had been, his eyes filled with fear. Hurley grabbed a stray golf club that had not made it to the course and stood; Shannon looked around at Sayid, who pulled a knife from his belt and moved a bit closer to her. Kate called out to Jack, and he tossed her the last gun. Sun looked up, shocked, and Jin spoke to her in Korean, turning away. She looked at him, and then back at the little worried group, and then back at him. She wanted to help look for Claire, but her husband was her first priority. Jin turned to her and spoke to her again in Korean, short and sharp, and she stayed put.

The little group started off into the forest, leaving Jin and Sun. Jin turned to Sun, not smiling, and gave her instructions in Korean. She stood and began off in the opposite direction of the little group, glancing behind her at her husband. How she wanted to, just once, do something he did not want her to! Do something without asking him if she was allowed to! But she was too timid. She knew that she could never do that...

Jin watched her leave. He glanced down at his torn shirt and began fussing with it, muttering to himself in Korean. A shadow fell over his white shirt. He ran his hand over the out line of the shadow on his shirt, and then looked up.

"Hello there," said Ethan.

Jin stared at him, and then tried to converse with him in Korean.

"I don't speak Chinese." Ethan spat.

Jin stopped speaking Korean at once.

"Where is Claire?" asked Ethan.

Jin spoke again, in Korean.

"I said, _where is Claire_?" Ethan growled, "I know you can understand me."

Jin answered in Korean.

Ethan grabbed Jin, holding him up by his shirt collar, and pulled out a knife. "Tell me where Claire is," he said in a low voice. Pulling back his arm, he stabbed Jin hard in the leg with the knife and began dragging it downwards so that it began to slowly split his leg open. "The faster you tell me," Ethan grinned wickedly, "the less blood you lose."

Jin began to scream in Korean, twisting, fighting with Ethan, but Ethan was not in the least affected by his pain. "Tell me where Claire is." Ethan growled, smiling.

"Stop!"

Ethan and Jin both looked around. Sun was standing there, eyes shining with tears as she stared at her husband's bleeding leg. Ethan still held Jin up, but he was surveying Sun with great interest.

"Stop!" Sun insisted again.

"So _you_ speak English." Ethan commented. He jerked the knife down Jin's leg a little further, and he let out a yell of agony. "Can _you _tell me where Claire is?" he asked dangerously.

Sun faltered for a moment, tears stinging her eyes, not wanting to betray the group and wanting to save her husband any more pain. Ethan jerked the knife down Jin's leg. A scream that pierced Sun's heart as well as her ears erupted from her husband's lips. "She is in the woods!" Sun told him at last. "She ran away!"

Ethan smiled and yanked the knife from Jin's leg, and then let him fall to the floor of the cave. "Thank you." he said quietly, saluting her with the bloody knife, and then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone.


	16. Act Sixteen: Walt

Walt started up the grassy hill to the golf course, moping. "Why's my dad always gotta be so mean?" he spat. "I can do just as much as he can. Why do I always gotta be put somewhere safe?" He shook his head, staring at his feet. "Man, it just ain't –"

He stopped when he saw something at his feet. It was a pair of tinted sunglasses. He picked them up and examined them.

Obviously, Sawyer was no longer at the beach.


	17. Act Seventeen: The Search Begins

"He doesn't care about killing people, he knows this island like the back of his hand, and he's exceedingly lethal. No one can even imagine what he does to people; everyone who's come back from him has had amnesia." Locke pointed out. "He's got the advantage."

"Well," said Jack, "we just have to find out a way to get the advantage back, don't we?" Jack clicked back the hammer of his gun. "We need to split up," he said.

"I disagree," Boone spoke up, and Locke put a learned hand on his shoulder.

"Let me handle this." Locke whispered to him and Boone retreated, backing away into Locke's shadow.

"Well then, what do you think?" Jack asked skeptically. "If we split up, even if he takes one of us down, there will still be more of us. And plus, we'll have a better chance of finding Claire."

"Why?" asked Locke. "If we stay together, he won't dare attack us."

"This is Ethan we're talking about," Jack pointed out.

A rustling was heard in the underbrush, and everyone stood ready, weapons raised to strike. Loud, unhidden footsteps were heard coming towards them, and Sawyer ducked a last branch before standing upright, dusting himself off and looking up. Upon seeing all the weapons pointed at him, he raised his hands and exclaimed, "Whoa! I didn't know I was hated _that _much! Did I miss something?"

Jack lowered his gun and sighed. "What do you want, Sawyer?" he asked, almost a growl.

Sawyer stared at him. "I wanna help, what do you think?" he asked. Cracking his neck, he glanced around at the group. "Anybody got an extra weapon they could loan me for this adventure thing?" he asked sarcastically.

Locke reached in his pocket and pulled out the gun that Jack had given him from the Halliburton case, and tossed it to Sawyer. Sawyer examined it, running a hand over the hammer, weighing it in the palm of his hand, staring down the barrel. Jack hoped he would accidentally set it off and shoot himself, but no such luck. "Alrighty," Sawyer said as he pocketed the gun. "_So_... where we off to?"

"We're going to find Ethan." Kate informed him, stashing her gun in her belt.

"Ah. The boogey man." Sawyer chuckled, and Charlie glared at him.

"We're trying to find Claire, too." Kate added.

Sawyer just nodded. "Beauty and the Beast." he commented. "And the Baby."

"What's your point?" Locke asked Jack, returning to the conversation. "I think your idea sounds fine. It's just that I think my idea sounds better. Here's what I think we should do..." He turned to Boone, who was just staring at him, intently listening to what he had to say. Locke then turned to Sawyer. "I'm going to use you as bait."

"What?" exclaimed Sawyer. "Hell no!"

"Alright, enough foolishness," Jack said, "let's split. Locke, Boone, you go that way." he pointed south of where they were standing, "Hurley, you go that way. Sawyer... you go that way." he pointed in an easterly direction. "Kate, you go there. Michael, you go that way." He pointed them on two different paths, but both to the general direction of north-east. "Sayid –"

"I want to travel in a group of two as well." Sayid stated, and Shannon glanced at him.

"Alright," Jack agreed, "Sayid and Shannon, you go that way." He pointed west. "I'll go this way. Charlie...you go back to the camp and see if everything's alright there."

"Hell no!" exclaimed Charlie, almost laughing. "Last I checked, it was _my_ lover we were chasing."

Jack sighed. "Fine." he said. "Where's your weapon, then?"

Charlie's eyes lit up with an almost maniacal light. "When I find Ethan, I won't _need_ a weapon."

Jack considered him for a moment, and then nodded. "Alright." he said. "Let's go."


	18. Act Eighteen: Sayid, Shannon

The party split in the directions that Jack had indicated. Sayid ducked under stray branches and held them up for Shannon to pass under. "Are you sure you want to come?" he asked her, and she stared at him defiantly.

"Positive."

"You know," Sayid said, "I think you're frightened."

Shannon smiled at him. "Not a chance." she said.


	19. Act Nineteen: Jack

Jack hid behind each tree he passed, peering out to see if he could catch a glimpse of the very pregnant Aussie or the madman. He saw neither. Half of him was running on an adrenaline high, savoring the danger, almost _wanting _to come face-to-face with Ethan; but another, more sensible part of him wanted to stay safe, away from all this. That part of him did not want anything to do with Ethan, or Claire, or this whole stupid island.

He was sure he was not the only one who felt that way.


	20. Act Twenty: Boone, Locke

Boone stabbed his javelin into the ground and stopped. "Do you think we're ever going to find Claire this way?" he asked Locke, who was checking the branches of all the bushes around the pathway.

"Nope." answered Locke, carefully fingering the tiny sticks. Standing, he turned to Boone and shrugged. "It's just what Jack said, and everyone does what Jack says." He turned back to the bush. "Come here," he beckoned Boone over, and the young man came without hesitation. "Look at this." Locke pointed to the little bush, and Boone bent down to inspect it. "You think someone has been here?"

Boone stared at the little branches, searching for broken ends, twisted leaves, torn hair, but he could see nothing peculiar about the bush. "No," he said at last, and glanced at Locke, who smiled.

"Wrong."

"Huh?" Boone looked back at the bush, but he could not see anything wrong with it. "I don't see –"

"Seeing is not _always_ believing." Locke told him, rubbing a finger across the base of one of the millions of tiny leaves. Holding it up, he held it out to Boone. "Smell that." he instructed.

Boone leaned forward and hesitantly smelled it. "Gunpowder." he stated. Locke nodded and withdrew his hand. "But... no one uses gunpowder anymore." Boone pointed out, "That was used back during the civil war."

"Boone." Locke closed his eyes in agitation. "Think before you talk. Gunpowder is not only used for ammunition. It has other uses."

Boone thought for a moment. "Explosives?" he asked, and Locke nodded. "But what would Ethan be doing with explosives?"

"Who says it's Ethan?" Locke asked, wiping his finger on his pants. "But the big question is, where _is_ Ethan?" He stood and pointed in a south-easterly direction. "Let's get going. This way." he said.

"Okay," agreed Boone, and turned to pick up his javelin. He stopped short. "Um, Locke..." he said, and Locke turned.

The javelin was gone.


	21. Act TwentyOne: Shannon, Sayid

A slight crunch was heard, and Shannon clung to Sayid's arm with a gasp of fear. "It's alright. It's just a bird." Sayid assured her. Shannon heard a rustling and swallowed hard, her breathing speeding up. "It's alright. It's just the wind." Sayid told her.

"I wasn't scared." Shannon stated, staring at him and detaching herself from him. "I was just making sure nothing got _you_."

Sayid glanced at her. "That's very considerate of you." he said.

"Stop it!" Shannon snapped. "I scared, okay? I don't want to die!"

Sayid stared ahead, watching the path. "I didn't say anything." he pointed out.

"Yeah, but you have this way of..._saying _things without..._saying_ things." Shannon looked away. "It freaks me out."

"Alright, I'll stop if it bothers you." Sayid agreed.

"It doesn't bother me, it's just that –" Shannon stopped. "You're doing it again!" she exclaimed.

Sayid shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'll just stop talking." he said.

"No, I wasn't telling you to stop talking, I like you talking to me, it's just –" She shook her head. "Never mind." she said, shaking her head.

"Tell you what," Sayid turned to her. "If you want to get away from me so badly, why don't you climb that tree and take a look around from the top?"

Shannon looked the tree over. It looked sturdy enough. "Alright," she agreed, "I think that sounds fine." Shedding her pack, she readied herself, once, twice, three times, and tried to pull herself up. She fell back onto her rear. "Darn it!" she cried, and pushed herself up. Grabbing onto the branch, she tried again, but again, she failed.

"You know," said Sayid, "I think you could use some help."

Shannon glanced back at him. "Not a chance." she said, smiling.

Shannon grabbed hold of the branch again, readied herself, and then pulled herself up onto the first branch, the second, the third, with a grace that Sayid admired. It was not often that he saw a girl who could climb, and Shannon – of all people – was the _last_ girl on Earth he would think of as a tree climber.


	22. Act Twenty Two: Jin, Sun

Jin could not stop staring at his wife as she wrapped his leg in a cloth and poured cool water over it. She, however, did not look at him. He finally spoke up, asking her a question in Korean.

She glanced up at him, but did not answer. She had finally done something to his face that was directly defiant, and yet she did not feel good about it. In fact, she felt awful about it as she tended to his bleeding wound. It did not seem bad, knowing how to speak English, and yet the way her husband reacted to it, it felt as if she had just murdered some close family member.

"I'm sorry." she said quietly.


	23. Act Twenty Three: Charlie

"Claire!" Charlie called. If Ethan was around, he knew that the sound of his voice was the kiss of Death, but he did not care. He would kiss with Death as many times as he pleased, if only to find Claire. "Claire!" he called again. "Where are you?" he whispered to himself.


	24. Act Twenty Four: Shannon, Sayid

"Do you see anything?" Sayid called up to Shannon, who was almost to the top of the tree. She stood and looked around. "Can you see Claire or Ethan?" Sayid called.

"I see Jack!"

"Do you see Claire?"

"Wait... who's that?"

Shannon stopped looking around and stared at the Man, who stared right back at her. Shannon squinted at him, and he pulled back his arm, as if to throw something. She stared at him, beginning to get scared. Then he let the arm go, and something came flying at her.

"Who is it?" Sayid called, but instead of an answer, all he heard was a suppressed scream, a series of short screams, and then one long, drawn-out scream. "SHANNON!" he cried, staring up, but he did not see her until it was too late. With a violent _thud_, she hit the ground, sprawled spread-eagle. Sayid ran to her and lifted her head. "Shannon!" he cried, but her head just lolled sickeningly to one side. Sayid put his fingers to her red neck and felt that the spinal column had been snapped.

Shannon was dead.


	25. Act Twenty Five: Charlie

Charlie sat down against the trunk of a tree, holding himself, trying to choke back tears as he thought over their hopeless situation. "God, Claire," he whispered, "why does everything always happen to _us_?" He stared down at the sun-lines on his left hand. "It's too late." he said, and wiped his nose on the soiled sleeve of his hoodie. "It's too late for anything." He stared up at the canopy of leaves above him, not even trying to hold back the tears.

"God, Claire." he whispered. "Why does everything always happen to _you_?"


	26. Act Twenty Six: Sawyer, Ethan

Sawyer walked blatantly through the underbrush, not really caring, looking both ways, as if looking for Ethan, and yet not truly looking for anyone in particular. "I'm on a wild goose chase," he laughed as he played with his gun, "looking for the boogey man." He smiled and exhaled in humor. "Oh, boy."

A cracking of twigs alerted him. Sawyer snapped to attention and stepped behind the nearest tree, hardly breathing, gun at the ready. The footsteps stopped. Sawyer saw it immediately: this was turning into a sick game of cat-and-mouse. He clicked back the hammer of his gun and took a few deep breaths. He jumped out from behind the tree, the gun aimed at where he had last heard the noise – but no one was there.

He pulled the gun back to his chest and spun around. No one was there either. A crunch of leaves alerted him. Sawyer made a dash and slammed his back to a tree, his gun ready. Ethan came running, and Sawyer was ready. He jumped out from behind the tree, tackling Ethan to the ground, but the fox-faced fighter had soon turned the clash around, pinning Sawyer, using one hand as a vice to choke him and using the other and the adapted spidery legs to pin his other limbs to the ground. Ethan grabbed the gun and tossed it about four yards away, where it landed embedded in a clump of grass. Sawyer watched it and knew that this man could just as easily toss him aside – or his life.

Sawyer struggled to fight back, but he was spread-eagle under the Devil, exposed and helpless without his weapon, further assisted by the hand of the Sin Incarnate which held him.

"Not so cocky now, are you?" Ethan growled. How could anyone, especially one such as Locke, have mistaken this murderous lunatic for a sensible human companion? A slight tick began to go off in Ethan's cheek, and Sawyer could see his own blood shining in the madman's eyes. Ethan laughed, a series of short, suppressed, insane laughs, as he held Sawyer prisoner under his flexible body, and the more Sawyer struggled, the harder Ethan choked his prey.

"You," Ethan told Sawyer as he fought to breathe, "are going to be more trouble than I thought. I _should_ kill you. But I don't think I'm going to," he added in a low voice.

"No one's going to come to save me." Sawyer choked.

Ethan raised his eyebrows, smiling. "You'd be surprised." he said quietly.

"What are you going to do to me?" Sawyer choked.

"Did they ever tell you what I did to Charlie?"

Sawyer hesitated. "No."

Ethan smiled.


	27. Act Twenty Seven: Boone, Locke

"I'm sorry Locke," Boone repeated, "I really didn't mean to lose it! I don't know how it disappeared! I stuck it in the ground, and –"

"Left it unattended." Locke finished his statement. He bent down to another bush, carefully examining the leaves. He glanced at Boone. "You just gave the advantage back to him." He looked up. Boone looked up, too.

"It's going to rain soon." Boone estimated, "In about five minutes."

Locke glanced at him. "Three." he corrected the boy. "But good job."

A rustling sound came from a nearby bush, and Locke stiffened, his hand flying instantly to his Bowie knife. Boone stood back a few steps, frightened. Then the rustling stopped.

"What is it?" Boone whispered to Locke as the hunter's dark eyes lingered on the spot.

Locke pulled the knife from his belt and tossed it to Boone. "Find out yourself," he said, and returned to checking the bushes for odd markings. Boone stared at the knife, and then at Locke, and then back at the knife.

"You want me to –?"

"That's the general idea."

"But what if I –?"

"Get attacked? I think you'll be okay."

"How do you always –?"

"Finish all your sentences for you?" Locke looked up at the boy. "I know you like the back of my hand." he remarked. "We're '_special friends_'. Remember?"

Boone laughed. "Special friends. Right." He stashed the knife into his belt, took one last look at Locke, and started into the woods.


	28. Act Twenty Eight: Claire

Claire stopped, holding her stomach. "He... kicked," she whispered, smiling. For a moment, she felt safe and happy, almost as if she were home again. Then she heard a sound, a cracking of twigs, and saw a man coming towards her. She panicked and started running again.

It was so difficult to run like this... Why did they have to keep chasing her? Did they not see that she just wanted to be left alone?

Or was it that "bad man" that the doctor had warned her about?

Either way, she kept running.

Whoever it was, she was not going to let them catch her, even if it killed her.

Which it probably would.


	29. Act Twenty Nine: Hurley

Hurley swung his golf club at random pieces of debris, watching how they sprang out of the way, almost as if they had a life of their own. He was bored. He had not seen a single trace of either Claire or Ethan the whole time and he was starting to feel sure that he would not see either of them for the whole time they were looking.

He liked the rocks the best. They made a clinking sound when he hit them.


	30. Act Thirty: Boone, Vincent

The woods were silent. Not a sound came from the ominous trees as Boone made his way through the underbrush searching for the source of the sound. He ran a hand over the hilt of the Bowie knife, ready to draw it and strike if need be. Silent minutes passed, and soon Boone's hand began to relax on the hilt.

Then the rustling returned.

Boone spun around, brandishing the knife. The rustling started behind him, and ran in a dizzying circle around him. The crunching grew louder as the spirals closed in on him, surrounding him. Then as suddenly as it had begun, the circles stopped. Boone drew his knife up, slowly, and readied his stance.

From the woods burst a large yellow shape, fur flying and mouth open. It bounded up to Boone and knocked him over. Boone was sure that he was dead, attacked by a polar bear and soon to become lunch. Then the creature began licking his face. Boone opened his eyes.

It was not a polar bear, after all. It was Walt's lab, Vincent.

"Hey, boy," Boone laughed, and the dog panted, his doggy breath hot on Boone's nervously cold face. Boone rubbed the dog behind the ears and stood. The dog barked at him. "What is it?" he asked.

The dog barked again and then disappeared into the woods.

"Come back, boy!" Boone called, and began following the dog.


	31. Act Thirty One: Charlie

Charlie felt a drop of rain hit his head, and he glanced up at the sky, tears running down his face. He wiped the tears away with the soiled sleeve, and felt another rain drop, and then another. Soon, it began pouring. Charlie stood quickly; the rain had brought him back to his senses. He needed to find Claire.

"This is worse than a wet towel," he muttered as he pulled his hood over his head. He stopped himself. What was he thinking! He was sober now. But somehow, he wished he was not. A cold beer would be nice right now. In fact, a twelve-pack would be _quite_ nice right now. If only. If only.

"Claire!" he screamed over the pouring of the rain. "CLAIRE!"


	32. Act Thirty Two: Jin, Sun

Jin sat under the rock outcropping, safe from the rain, while Sun sat, huddled, out in the rain. She rocked back and forth, thinking. Why had the people who had gone out to look for Claire not come back yet? She glanced at her husband, who was staring at her. A small smile tried to play across her lips but it was killed immediately by the glare that her husband was giving her. She turned back around and went back to staring into the woods.

Jin stared at her, and then called out to her in Korean.

Sun turned to look at him, and he smiled at her, beckoning her again in Korean. She stood and went to join him under the outcropping. Smiling at her, he wrapped half of his blanket around her shoulders. He spoke to her softly in Korean, and she smiled.

Maybe he was not a big bad villain after all.


	33. Act Thirty Three: Hurley, Sayid

Hurley just kept trekking through the rain, not truly caring if he got wet. It was not as though he could have avoided the elements anyways. He had the rusty golf club over his shoulder, staring ahead, bored, when he saw something sticking out of the ground. He stopped, staring at it for a moment, and then went over and took a closer look at it.

It was a javelin.

"Whoa," he said, pulling it out of the ground and dropping his golf club. "Dude, that's awesome." He looked it over and then noticed that the sharp point had been broken slightly, tiny splinters fraying from the tip. "Whoa," he said again, touching it.

A crackling of dampened leaves reached his ears, and he brandished the spear. A moment later, Sayid emerged from the underbrush, carrying a limp Shannon in his arms, tears spilling down his cheeks, a frighteningly angry expression across his usually placid face. Upon seeing Hurley brandishing the javelin, he stopped short, staring at him.

"Oh sorry man, my bad." Hurley apologized, retreating the javelin, "I thought you were, like, _Ethan_ or somethin' you know what I –"

"You killed her." Sayid said, his voice shaking, as he stared at Hurley holding the weapon.

"What?" Hurley glanced down at the newly-found javelin. "Look, I don't know what you're talkin' about, dude, but I know I didn't kill anybody."

"You killed Shannon!" Two tears slid down Sayid's cheeks, easily distinguishable from the rain that poured down on them. "WHY DID YOU KILL HER!" he shrieked, and Shannon's head bobbed as his arms shook violently.


	34. Act Thirty Four: Boone, Vincent, Sawyer,...

Boone followed the dog's panting, every now and then calling, "Slow down, boy! Slow down!" The dog finally stopped in a small clearing, and Boone caught up to him. A smile split his face, his undead eyes lit up. Vincent barked at him and Boone said, "What is it, boy?" before glancing up and seeing exactly what it was.

"Oh my God..." he whispered.

Dripping in the downpour, his clothes hanging and sticking sickly to his body, his head covered by a burlap bag, hung Sawyer, twisting slightly as the downpour moved his limp body back and forth. Boone grabbed the Bowie knife from his belt and went at once to climbing the tree which he was hanging from. Holding the rope with one hand, he set off to cut it. He sawed at it, the thick strands breaking and snapping as he severed every thread. When it had dwindled down to just a few threads, Boone leapt down from the tree and pulled the dripping body. It jerked once, and Boone pulled again. This time, Sawyer came toppling down on top of Boone.

Boone uncovered Sawyer's head and began giving him CPR. The rain poured and Boone kept pressing. If it was in his power to do so he would not let a fellow survivor die – even Sawyer. He began giving the blonde mouth-to-mouth. If only his sister could have seen him! He was sure that she would _never_ stop taunting him about his 'preference' after that.

Boone pounded Sawyer's chest, but Sawyer did not breathe. "Come on, Sawyer," Boone pressed, thumping Sawyer's chest with his fist again. "Come on, Sawyer, breathe! Breathe, Sawyer!" He pounded Sawyer again and again, but Sawyer still did not breathe. "Come on," Boone pleaded, giving him mouth-to-mouth again, "breathe! Please breathe, Sawyer..."

Boone rocked back and sat down, his knees tucked up to his chest. He had come too late. Then again, he knew he could not really blame himself; how was he supposed to know what Ethan was doing every minute? But as he glanced back over at Sawyer, in a way, he felt that the disagreeable man's death was his fault.

He tucked his head down into his arms and began to cry.

"Aren't you already wet enough?"

Boone raised his head slowly, his tears suddenly dry. "What more do you want?" Boone asked viciously. "Haven't you already caused enough damage?"

Ethan looked mildly shocked, in a mocking kind of way. "Me?" he asked. "I'm sorry if what I did upset you. But he was in the way –"

"What!" Boone exploded, "That's why you killed him! I'll kill _you_!"

He jumped to his feet and leapt at the man, who moved deftly aside, catching the young man's wrists and twisting them, so that Boone cried out in pain. Then, grabbing a measure of rope from his belt, Ethan proceeded to quickly tie Boone – and then tie him to Sawyer.

"Why did you kill Sawyer!" demanded Boone. "_Why_!"

"He's not dead." Ethan stated as Boone struggled. "Just temporarily silenced." He started off, away from them, and Boone called after him, "Where are you going! Come back here and fight me like a man! Hey!" he called louder, over the roar of the rain, "I'm talking to you! Where are you going!"

Ethan turned to face him, his hair matted in his eyes as the rain had left it. "Where do you think?" he asked, and started again for the woods.


	35. Act Thirty Five: Kate, Jack

Kate ducked a branch and came face-to-face with Jack. "I don't think this was a good idea." she said, blowing rain out of her mouth and eyes. Jack shook his head.

"I agree." he admitted.

"I haven't seen any sign of any of the others." Kate told him, "and I'm starting to worry. You think he got them?"

"He couldn't have gotten all of them."

"Do you think any of them has found Claire yet?"

"Doubt it."

Kate rubbed her pistol with the tail of her shirt and flipped back her wet hair. "I'm going to look for them," she said, and with a last look at Jack, she ducked back under the branch and disappeared into the rain.


	36. Act Thirty Six: Claire, Ethan

Claire stopped to cradle her stomach again. Why did everything always seem so much heavier when it rained? She did not care much for being wet, and she knew that it must be bad for her baby but she had to keep running. She would _not_ let herself be found, either by the doctor and the rest of her "friends" or the "bad man".

"It's okay," she crooned her baby, "I promise, we're going to be okay –"

"You."

The rain poured down, and Claire turned, perplexed, to investigate the voice. She saw someone. Who was he?

"You." he said again.

_Not good_, her mind screamed. _Who is he?_ she asked herself. Half of her wanted to run, half of her wanted to stay. She turned, took a few undecided steps, stopped, began to turn back around, stopped again, and began to run, half holding back, stopping again, her movements jerky and hesitant. Then she heard the Man advancing. That was not good. In an instant, she made up her mind to run.

She ran, fast, as fast as her legs could carry her, with the rain pounding against her cheeks and rushing through her hair. The rain obliterated all visibility she could have hoped of having. She could not see her stalker clearly but the dark image of the Man kept flashing between the trees as she ran, sometimes consistent with her, sometimes falling behind, sometimes ahead of her, sometimes on the other side, sometimes behind her. Claire kept running. She was frightened. She did not know where she was, or who was chasing her, or why. She glanced over her shoulder, but saw no one. She looked to both sides, up, behind her again; she did a spin in her running, but she saw no one.

Claire stopped. Where was he? How could he have disappeared so completely? She backed away a few steps, listening hard. The pouring rain was thundering in her ears but she knew what sound she was looking for. She turned her head, left, right, up, down, but she saw no one.

From behind a tree, head bowed in the fashion of a predator, his dark hair falling in his face, soaked by the rain, the scratches on his face glittering as if the blood was new, Ethan slunk noiselessly, one hand outstretched towards her, fingers bent like cruel claws, as if he meant to tear her limb from limb like a wild animal. She did not hear the sliding of his feet across the dampened clay, littered with an assortment of tree discards. Ethan, his twisted smile fixated across his pointed face, lunged at her.

Claire screamed. If she had ever screamed before in her nightmares it was nothing compared to this. Ethan had grabbed her, but she would not be taken down so easily. She kicked and screamed, usually gentle hands balled into fists were swinging violently, legs kicking anything they could reach, hair flying in every direction. Ethan took her slender, smooth neck into his rusty hand and jerked it backwards. "If you fight, I will break your neck." he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear over the roar of the rain. Instantly she stopped fighting. Ethan took a few ragged breaths, laced with traces of mad laughter. He bent down to her ear again and breathed into it, his breath strangely cold.

"Hello, Claire." he whispered. "Nice to see you again. Did you miss me?"


	37. Act Thirty Seven: Charlie

Charlie spun at the sound of the scream. "CLAIRE!" he called, and then started to run in the direction of her frantic voice. He ran faster than he ever knew he could. Laeam would be proud of him. "CLAIRE!" he cried again and again, "CLAIRE! CLAIRE, I'M COMING!"

He kicked up mud as he ran, sliding every now and then as he changed direction.

"CLAIRE!" he screamed.

The female screaming had stopped. Charlie also skidded to a halt, mud splashing on him as his shoes dug into the softened ground. He listened hard, but he could not hear anything. "CLAIRE!" he called again, but no reply came.

"CLAIRE!"


	38. Act Thirty Eight: Jack, Locke

Jack heard the screaming, too. Pulling out his gun, he ran in the direction of the sound, following the echoes as the scream faded, redoubled and then stopped completely. He clicked back the hammer on his gun and crept noiselessly around each tree, nearing the source of the sound. He peered out behind a tree and shook the water from his eyes, and saw... nothing.

He relaxed his posture and turned. Out of nowhere, Locke was behind him. He jumped and let out a little exclamation of shock, and then pulled himself together.

"Surprised?" asked Locke.

"You scared me." admitted Jack.

"I'm good at that." teased Locke. They both hesitated. "You looking for Ethan?"

"Yeah." said Jack.

"Well, you're looking in the wrong place."

Jack stared at him. "But I followed the sound –"

"Screams echo." Locke informed him. "Never trust where a scream sounds like it is coming from." Locke pointed in a different direction. "There's where you might want to try."

Jack stared at him for a moment. "Where's –?"

"Boone left to investigate a white noise." Locke shrugged.

Jack nodded. "Thanks," he said, and started off in the direction that Locke had indicated. That man was one of the few things he still found creepy. Creepier than things that went bump in the night. Creepier than Sawyer. Almost creepier than Ethan.

He pushed a leafy branch aside and froze.

Speaking of Ethan...


	39. Act Thirty Nine: Ethan, Claire, Jack

"Do you remember what we did last time we had a little get-together?" Ethan said to Claire, smiling as she gasped in terrified breaths. "No?" he asked. She did not reply. "Well then, let me refresh your memory."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hypodermic needle, and began to lift the tail of Claire's shirt. Claire screamed bloody murder.

Jack pounced out from behind the tree, tackling Ethan to the ground. Fists flew as the fighters struggled to end up on top, and the hypodermic needle fell to the ground. Jack and Ethan both saw it fall, and Ethan scrambled to grab it, but Jack pulled him back. With a shriek that was more animal than human Ethan scratched Jack across the face with nails that were hideously long, even for a stranded lunatic. Claire continued screaming, hands to her face, tears streaming down her cheeks, huddling away from the wet fight. With one hand, Jack held Ethan's head to the ground.

"Run!" he cried, before Ethan kicked him and the fighting went on. Claire obeyed at once, turning and running for dear life. Ethan looked up from the fight and saw her. A low, almost canine growl escaped his throat, and he grabbed the hypodermic needle from where it had fallen on the ground and stabbed it into Jack's leg. Jack grabbed his leg and screamed in agony as the fluids spread, burning him like millions of white-hot needles in his skin. Ethan scrambled to his feet and began running after Claire.

"Run, Claire!" yelled Jack, still holding his leg in anguish, "RUN!"

Claire ran like never before. It no longer mattered that she was pregnant, or that it was pouring down rain, or that she did not know her way. All that mattered now was that she run and keep on running until she lost her pursuer. She gasped for breath, holding her stomach, and ran.


	40. Act Forty: Charlie, Claire, Ethan, Locke

Charlie heard the scream again, and concentrated as it bounced back and forth in the trees. With a, exuberant splash of mud, he sprinted in the direction of her screaming. "CLAIRE!" he cried, running as hard as he could. "CLAIRE!"

Claire heard her name being called and she changed direction, heading toward the voice. She knew that voice. That was the voice of the man who had first screamed at her and claimed to be in love with her. Now all she wanted was for him to show her that love he felt for her and to save her and her baby.

Then, she would be all too happy to love him in return.

Charlie ran and ran. Nothing could keep him from trying to save her. Nothing. It was all a matter of time. He did not have to be too late. He could be her hero.

All of a sudden, something slammed into him, knocking him back in the mud. He gasped in shock and looked up to see what it was.

It was Claire.

"Claire!" he exclaimed, holding her close, running his fingers through her blonde hair and rocking her. "Claire, I was so worried! Oh, Claire, never leave me again, never!" He kissed the top of her head, but she struggled with him, trying to twist away.

"Stop!" she shrieked, "Him! Ethan's after me and he wants to hurt my baby, save me!"

Charlie stopped kissing her and stared at her. "_What_!" he exclaimed. She glanced over towards the direction from which she came, her eyes wide with terror, and he did not have to ask her what the matter was.

"So you decided to cooperate, Charlie. How ironic."

Charlie did not look at Ethan. He just stared at Claire. "Leave her alone, Ethan." he said in a low voice, his throat dry with fear.

"Oh, but I can't do that."

Charlie turned to see Ethan standing there, a bloody knife gripped in one hand, the gun that Locke had given Sawyer clutched loosely in the other. "Why do you want to kill Claire's baby?" Charlie asked, his voice quavering. "Why?"

Ethan's unbalanced smile widened. "Who says I wanted to kill it?" he asked.

Charlie stared at Ethan, Ethan stared at Charlie, both listening to Claire's terrified breathing and the pounding of the rain. Charlie was about to jump up and fight him to the death when a slight, muted movement behind Ethan caught his eye. His face changed to hold a look of unsure observation, and Ethan stared harder at him.

"What are you looking at?" he asked sharply.

Charlie stared hard at that spot. Suddenly someone stepped silently out from the bushes.

"Ethan," Locke said, calling his name.

Ethan spun to face Locke. The hunter and the madman stared each other down for a few silent moments. Charlie stared at the both of them, and then caught something. He would not have seen it had he not been looking for it. It was not noticeable, just a slight gleam in the hunter's eye, but Charlie caught it.

He knew what he had to do.

"Locke." stated Ethan. "You are powerless against me."

Charlie slowly got to his feet, quieting Claire.

"Is that so?" asked Locke.

Charlie crept soundlessly nearer to the madman as Claire looked on, horrified.

"You and your pathetic band will never kill me. I killed Shannon. I will kill them all."

Charlie was standing behind Ethan now.

"Somehow," smiled Locke, "I don't think so."

Before Ethan even had time to change his expression, Charlie had grabbed him, looping one arm around his chin and grabbing a fistful of wet brown hair, and twisted his neck sharply. A quick, sickening _crack_ resounded through the jungle, and Claire let out a short scream. Ethan fell to the muddy ground, hands outstretched, still loosely holding the weapons.

He was dead.

Charlie hurried back over to Claire and began soothing her, holding her, rocking her as the rain poured down on them and Locke stared at Ethan's dead body. Suddenly he glanced up at Charlie. "Charlie," he said vaguely, and Charlie looked up at him. Locke hesitated. "Did he say he killed Shannon?"


	41. Act Forty One: Boone, Locke, Sayid, Char...

Boone, Locke and Sayid carried the body bag down the beach. Charlie and Claire stood on the dune, watching the slow procession. Charlie laid a hand over Claire's, which was resting on her stomach.

"You think they're going to give her a burial at sea?" asked Claire, glancing down at Charlie's hand.

Charlie shook his head. "They always bury or burn the dead." he told her. "My guess would be that they're going to bury Shannon."

Claire nodded, and then gasped. "He kicked!" she exclaimed, and Charlie smiled.

"I felt it."

Sayid and Boone could not look at each other. They knew that the other was still in love with Shannon, and it was something that they would share for a long, long time. A tear slid down Boone's face, and Sayid glanced at him, his own eyes still stinging from the day before. Somehow, a part of him would always hate Hurley. He did not know for sure that it was the plus-sized joker who was Shannon's murderer – he had no motive – but he felt that Hurley was the one he held most responsible. He knew that, with time, he would forgive, but never forget.

Boone was ashamed of the tear that slid down his face, but he could do nothing to stop it. There was nothing for him to be ashamed of. He had known the girl for so long, he was in love with her, and in one night, in one quick fall, she had been taken from him. He grabbed his corner a little better as it slipped from his sweaty fingers, and stumbled up the hill towards the burial ground. He had always been there for her. He hoped that her last thought was not that he had betrayed her. He would have given his life for her.

Locke glanced at the two mournful faces. He felt a pang of guilt, himself. It was his assistant's stepsister, after all, and his lover. He tried to put on a smile, but the others did not want to look at his false happy gesture. Sighing, he put on a somber face like the other two and continued up the hill with his corner of the body bag.

Sawyer rubbed his raw neck and watched the woeful threesome carry the dead body across the beach. He was still shocked that he was not the one in the body bag. He was sorry that someone, especially Shannon, had to die, but he was truly glad that it was not him. He had been joking when he said that he hoped he would be the one to die… He glanced over at Kate. He hoped she had been kidding, too.

Kate watched the procession. She wished she could have been more helpful. She felt as if she did nothing, either to cause Shannon's death or to prevent it, but she felt use-less. She hated feeling useless.


	42. Act Forty Two: The Burial and the Cliffh...

Boone laid down the body bag in a clearing and stared down at the spot of ground where they would soon be burying his sister. "This is it." he sighed, wiping the tear from his cheek. "This is goodbye."

Locke glanced at Boone, and then at Sayid, who was also staring at the patch of ground. "Well," he said, "I'll leave you two to your own devices." He then walked away and left the two behind.

"I'm sorry I flirted with her in front of you," Sayid confessed to Boone.

"I'm sorry I was such a jackass to you," Boone replied.

"I guess there was nothing to be done," Sayid said. "She... climbed the tree to get a better view, and... somebody knocked her out of the tree."

"Ethan," agreed Boone.

Sayid glanced up at him. "What?"

"Ethan. Ethan knocked her out of the tree." Boone nodded, and looked at Sayid.

"Not Hurley?"

"Hell no. Hurley wouldn't even _dream_ of doing something like that."

"And Ethan is dead?"

"Very dead."

"Who killed him?"

Boone opened his mouth to answer but before the words had a chance to come out he froze with a rifle pointed to his left temple. Sayid looked up at the holder of the gun.

"_Danielle_?" he asked, shocked.

Danielle was crying, her wild blue eyes red with tears, her matted brown hair even messier than before. She had the gun aimed at Boone, and her aim was never wrong.

"Why did you kill Alex?"


End file.
